


be your hero, baby!

by ashmes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Peter Parker, Canon Universe, Character Study, F/M, Gen, Jewish Peter Parker, Latino Peter Parker, Retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashmes/pseuds/ashmes
Summary: Peter Parker’s life goes off the rails with a spider’s bite. It's only the beginning.





	be your hero, baby!

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO!!!! I just watched Far From Home and had a good time and missed my boy Peter Parker, so I ended up writing a quick thing. I'm not entirely satisfied with how Peter's story has been handled in the MCU in certain aspects, so I decided to make a super indulgent wish fulfilling version lol. 
> 
> I'm half mexican and I'm going to make latino Peter Parker rise with my bare hands if I have to
> 
> **Trigger Warnings:**  
>  -minor mentions of police violence/corruption, nothing graphic, but it is mentioned a couple of times throughout the story  
> -death (obvs)

Peter Parker’s life goes off the rails with a spider’s bite.

To be fair, it wasn’t like Peter’s life had exactly been the smoothest _before_ the bite anyhow. There was the problem with money—always a problem with money—and the fact working two jobs in order to help Aunt May and Uncle Ben with the apartment and the general cost of breathing in New York City did little to help their situation. At least before the bite, he had a friend in Harry Osborn _before_ Osborn Industries left New York for a better business deal, but time and distance had a way of eating away at that too. Now, halfway through the first semester of freshman year at Midtown High, he was alone and carrying this simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating secret.

One insignificant bite during an Oscorp laboratory tour from his least favorite insect had gifted Peter Parker with abilities—real life super powers. After all this time of working himself to the bone, wishing and praying to have more energy, he finally had a chance to be more than he was. 

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Uncle Ben had said to him once, a warm smile on his face. “Always remember that and you’ll always be able to keep yourself in check, Peter.”

(It had been about Peter’s first cellphone, but _still_. It could apply to superpowers too.)

Responsibility had always been interwoven with his own personal philosophy since he was young—from always completing his assigned chores from Aunt May’s weekly chore chart, keeping his word with Uncle Ben and assisting him in fixing the building every other week, juggling two jobs, homework, and everything hidden in between the lines. It was one of the fundamental pillars in his life, a foundation where every other value had been built upon until it made him Peter Parker. 

Foundations are built to last, but that doesn’t mean they don’t come away undamaged. Peter had learnt that the hard way when Uncle Ben didn’t come home.

A cop had confused Uncle Ben with the description of a robber of a bodega down a few blocks from their building. Apparently, he had attempted to stop the other man from fleeing. They said he didn’t suffer, that it was quick and painless. One bullet clean through the heart. When the medical examiner pulled back the sheet from his face and revealed the lifeless pale skin, his blue lips, Peter felt hollow and weightless—the only thing grounding him to the moment was Aunt May’s weight in his arms as she collapsed from the grief. 

It surprised Peter how quick the process had been. The officer fired and sent to jail for the ‘unavoidable and unfortunate’ loss of life, Uncle Ben’s funeral, the wake, and the world forgot about it. There were other sad stories similar to what happened to his family, some worse and with far less justified endings than what their family received. It was on T.V., in the newspaper, and the alerts from his phone—impossible to ignore. So many people who needed help and weren’t given any, or downright forgotten about and persecuted by the very people sworn to protect them. There were the Avengers, of course, but it became obvious their focus was on the bigger issues outside of a gang war, a robbery gone wrong, a murder in the middle of the street.

What his city needed was a friendly, neighborhood superhero. Someone to protect the little guy while the best guys were off protecting the entire world.

_With great power comes great responsibility_.

“Spider-man’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

**

When he first met Net Leeds in middle school, Peter didn’t expect they would grow to be best friends. They were next door locker buddies, worked on the eight grade science fair project together, and kissed once during a game of spin the bottle at one of Betty Brant’s summer hangouts.

It wasn’t until they had gym together during fifth period of freshman year did they officially become friends.

“Not trying to creep on you in the locker room or anything, but I couldn’t help but notice you’ve got an original trilogy Star Wars poster hanging up in your locker,” Ned gestured toward said poster with delight in his eyes, corners fraying at the edges. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a Star Wars nerd? We could’ve been talking about that instead of the weather all this time, oh my _god_.”

Peter laughed, _loud_. “I just binged it all two weekends ago with my aunt and I’m obsessed, dude. At first I thought it was gonna suck, ‘cause of the graphics y’know, but the _story_.”

“Come, Peter,” Ned replied, wrapping an arm around Peter as they walked out of the locker room together. “We have _so_ much to discuss.”

After that, they were inseparable and made each other’s houses their second home. They spent two consecutive weekends Peter had taken off watching the original and prequel trilogy to prepare for the sequel trilogy, and solidified their sleepover tradition. For sophomore year, they had picked the same honors and A.P. classes and were delighted their schedules mostly aligned. Ned was the type of person Peter felt had meant to be in his life from the get-go. It was as if they knew each other all their lives in only such a short few months, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Which was why he made it a point to _not_ tell him about his alter-ego.

Ned had become such an integral part of his life in such a short amount of time, it was physically painful to so much as wonder what a life without him could even be like. Unbearable. Less laughter. Definitely not as bright as it was right now. Maybe he was selfish in not telling him, making up excuse after excuse as to why he couldn’t make it to the movies or giving another flimsy excuse Ned was too smart to believe about the bruises that would pop up. There was a strain in their relationship, one that could easily go away if he told him the truth, but he just couldn’t bring him into this part of Peter’s life.

Maybe one day when they’re older and Peter has more of a handle on this Spider-Man business, he would explain to Ned all the excuses and lies, and maybe one day he’d understand.

**

(In the future, when Ned finally accidentally discovers who Spider-Man is underneath the mask and Peter realizes his secret’s safe, he can’t help but feel relief he’s no longer the only one who knows.

Part of him wishes he told Ned sooner.)

**

Airports in Germany look a lot like airports in the United States, except for all the words being in German. Peter thought he’d be old and wrinkly and take in the sights by the time he managed to travel outside of the country, not fighting against Captain America and friends.

Meeting his heroes wasn’t supposed to be so painful, but hey, he had unlimited access to motives in his five-star hotel so he couldn’t complain too much.

“Hey, kid,” Captain America called out to him, breathless. _He_ caused Cap of all people to break into a sweat— _so cool_. “Where are you from?”

It was the accent. It was always the accent that gave Peter away.

“Queens,” Peter called back, straining under the weight of the shipping container. He kept his voice easy despite the fact his knees were beginning to buckle. “New York.”

Steve smiled. “Brooklyn.”

“I knew that, Mr. Captain—I mean Mr. America— _agh_!” Peter straightened out his knees, breathed in deep. “ _Steve_.”

“Did your homework, huh?”

“Something like that.”

“You seem like a good kid, Spider-Man,” Steve said as he picked up his shield from the floor. “This is probably going to go in one ear and out the other, but try and stay out of trouble. Maybe sometime I’ll show you a thing or two from Brooklyn.”

And in a blink of an eye, the man was gone.

With a pained grunt, Peter threw the shipping container off of him despite the fact his muscles were screaming. The fight was still raging on, explosions ringing in his ears, and though he tried to move, his body gave out from under him.

“Tapping out now,” he mumbled to no one in particular, face-first into the asphalt. “Gimmie a couple minutes, guys.” 

Can’t be too upset when Captain _freakin’_ America had given him props.

**

Aunt May grounded him for two weeks after he confessed about the almost lie of getting into a fight with a kid named Steve in a quick attempt to explain the bruises littering his face, and well, the rest of his body. His plan of using Aunt May’s make-up was successful, at least until the rain came and smudged it.

“I want this Steve’s number because I am definitely going to be calling his mother,” she ranted, the dark curls of her hair swaying as she paced the living room floor. “Swear to God, those _gringos_ will regret ever messing with my baby. Number, Peter, _now_.”

Though she was upset, he couldn’t help the warmth that flooded through him at his aunt’s protective nature. No wonder where he got it from.

“Dunno, May.” Peter shrugged. “We’re not really friends.”

She sighed and finally took a seat next to him. The worry lines were deep and prominent on her forehead, and he cringed at the fact he was the reason they were there. Quietly, he took her hand into his and squeezed as gently as he could. If he could somehow reassure her he won’t ever come home bloody and bruised, he would have, but May had always been the hardest to lie to.

Bringing his hand to her mouth, she placed a soft kiss to his bruised knuckles before she brought her emotions back in check. After Ben, she had become somewhat of an expert.

“You know how much I love you, yeah?” Aunt May asked, though this was a question he was sure he didn’t have to answer. He knew. “When you’re hurt, I’m hurt. You’re my baby, _mijo_. All I want to do is protect you, but you’re growing up so fast right in front of me and I feel like I can’t keep up.”

Peter swallowed as his eyes welled with tears. He blinked them away and smiled, breath tight in his chest.

“I know, May,” he replied. “I love you too. This won’t happen again, promise.”

Aunt May smiled and leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the center of his forehead, wiping away the tears and smudged mascara from under her eyes. She slapped her hands to her knees before standing up, and he was amazed yet again at how strong she was.

“Dinner, dinner, what should we do for dinner? How’s pasole sound, hm?” She ruffled her fingers through the curls of his hair. “Your favorite.”

Peter nodded with a smile. “Sounds great, May.”

Their family was smaller now with just the two of them, but he was happy to finally be home with her.

**

Silence was the worst. Even before the bite, Peter hated the twitchiness he’d get from radio silence or being left to his own devices. ADHD, the doctors called it, primarily the inattentive type. The Adderall had helped in managing it, but since the spider bite, the meds had little to no effect while the symptoms increased tenfold.

Damn spidey-senses. Handy when it came to Spidey-related stuff, a hindrance to Peter Parker. A universal summary to what his life was now.

After Germany, Peter was led to believe he would have more to do as Spider-Man with Tony’s guidance, considering Tony had personally recruited him and gave him a proper suit. Except Tony had effectively created a wall of radio silence between them with a baby sitter as their only means of communication in a man named Happy who was anything but. The more he tried to connect, to reach out and at least get a conversation through to Stark, the shorter the calls and texts from Happy were. At a certain point, Peter wondered if the man had blocked his number from calling.

None of this was what he pictured. He was practically an Avenger at this point, right? Shouldn’t he be on missions investigating the tensions brewing within the streets of New York City?

Apparently, Tony had better things to be doing. Stuff that entailed parties, jet planes, and champagne according to his Instagram.

“Do you even realize how much a billion dollars is? Stark, for example, could be using that money to help repair the damage his weapons caused in the Middle East or paying off kid’s student lunch debts or something.” Michelle’s voice cut through the air of the classroom, as she lectured behind the podium. It was yet another debate for their A.P. English class, with Michelle’s team being undefeated for the past three weeks. “If he was as much of a genius as he says he is, how come he keeps spending his money on Ironman suits instead of trying to help real scientists with global warming.”

Whispers spread throughout the classroom, and her opponent, a blonde girl with sweat budding on her forehead glanced around the room for somebody, anybody to help her. “That doesn’t mean he’s actually responsible for any of that stuff. Maybe the Middle East stuff, probably, but it’s his money he earned. Why should he spend it on people he doesn’t even know?”

“I thought he was a superhero,” Michelle replied, expression unchanged. “Isn’t it literally his job to care about people he doesn’t even know?”

The timer rang through the room, signaling this topic was finished. Michelle and her opponent took back their seats, an expectant gaze on her face while the other girl hung her head in shame.

“Michelle, you’re absolutely killing it lately in debate. We could use someone like you in the debate club after school,” their teacher said. “On the topic of taxation policy on the rich, I’m going to have to give it to pro. Congratulations, guys.”

A small smile graced her face as her team enveloped her in a choir of praise and hugs at their win. Peter had to admit, she was pretty convincing.

“Dude, you’re totally staring at Michelle,” Ned whispered from his right. “In a googly eyed creepy kind of way. Stop it.”

Before Peter could fix his mistake, Michelle’s eyes met his with a curiosity in her gaze. He widened his eyes and quickly broke the connection, the tips of his ears burning. If he had a lighter complection, he knew his face would be red.

“Woah, do you like Michelle? I thought you were into Liz still.” Ned continued, amused. “Didn’t know you had a thing for alternative girls, but now that I think about it, you two would be pretty cute together. An opposites attract kinda thing.”

Now Peter’s cheeks were on fire. “I don’t like Michelle. I mean, I don’t _not_ like her or anything—she’s cool and nice, well, nice sometimes. That’s _not_ the point.” He twirled his thumbs together, his brain starting. “Let’s just say she made some good points, that’s all. I’m inspired.”

Raising a dubious brow, Ned could only laugh. “Okay, sure, man. All I know is that you’ve never looked at Liz like that.”

Shaking his head, Peter couldn’t bring himself to linger on any of what Ned was talking about. There was the beginnings of a plan formulating in his mind about how to deal with the extremely powerful weapon dealings within his city before it could get more out of hand. 

No one else was getting hurt while he’s around.

**

At the end of the day, Peter could honestly say he did what he thought was best at the time. He had no intention on playing a role in destroying a family. There was nothing in the superhero handbook preparing him for that.

Once the Vulture was behind bars, Liz and her mom left New York back to their family in Washington. There was nothing he could say that would make any of it easier on her, so they had opted for a pleasant goodbye and empty promises of keeping in touch. His family had never gone through a divorce, but he knows what it’s like when someone who had been a fixed point in your life was suddenly absent.

Truthfully, Peter didn’t know the exact reason why he decided to visit Adrian in prison. Part of him rationalized he wanted to understand where he was coming from, while another part needed to see what he did was the right thing.

“Are you doubting yourself, Peter?” Adrian asked, coughing into the receiver from behind the glass. “Spider-Man’s a hero for putting the big, bad Vulture away. It’s all over the news.”

He flinched at the mention of his alias, the subtle reminder Adrian had full knowledge of his secret identity in the palm of his hand. “Relax,” the other continued. “I already told you, kid. Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, nobody would believe a pipsqueak like you could’ve done me in anyway.”

For some strange reason, those words didn’t bring Peter any comfort.

“I got your weapons off the street, kept you from stealing from Mr. Stark’s vault, and made sure you won’t be getting out for a while…” Peter rubbed the back of his neck absent-mindedly. “But I still can’t help feeling some kind of doubt. Not at myself because you gave me no other choice, but I guess… at the entire situation. It didn’t have to go down that way.”

There was a strange look in Adrian’s eye. In a low voice, he said, “The only thing I’d change is getting caught, ‘cause I lost my family. It was always going to go down the way it did.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to,” the Vulture replied. “Not everything’s in black and white, kid. You’re gonna realize there’s shades of gray all over, especially when it comes to people.”

Peter swallowed a lump in his throat, stared at his clasped hands in front of him.

“Heh, seems to me like you’ve already got that figured out.”

**

It was clear as day Tony wasn’t used to hearing the word ‘no’ from the surprised look on his face. Maybe under different circumstances, Peter would’ve found more amusement in making _the_ Tony Stark’s jaw drop.

“You’re turning me down?” He asked in disbelief. “You better think about this.”

And he had thought about this, long before Peter entertained the possibility Stark would want to continue working with him after everything that happened between them. The promise of keeping the suit Tony had specifically designed for him, the official title of being an Avenger—it was everything he was promised once they had first met, the day Tony blackmailed him in his bedroom.

Maybe it took a little longer than expected, but Peter realized what he had wanted from Tony was something he didn’t necessarily need. There was nothing Tony could buy or give that Peter didn’t already have himself.

“Don’t get too upset about it, Mr. Stark,” Peter joked. “We’ll still be working together, probably. Eventually. I just don’t think our superhero styles mesh very well together. No hard feelings.”

If Tony was upset behind those sunglasses, he didn’t show it. “The suit’s all yours, still, if you want it at least. I shouldn’t have taken it from you, but considering everything that happened at the ferry, I think the tough love was a little necessary.”

Was that the closest to an apology he would get from him? After keeping him out of the loop, yelling at Peter for being unaware of his plan, and taking away a gift because Peter didn’t follow every word from his mouth? Probably.

Uncle Ben had always said getting a prideful man to admit he was wrong was as difficult as squeezing water from a stone. His heart clenched at the thought of him.

“I’m good, thanks,” Peter assured. “Too rich for my blood anyway.”

In order to leave on good terms, he purposefully left out the bit about not wanting to be tracked.

Besides, his brain was brimming with schematics and designs for a new suit. It was time to go back to his roots, even if it meant dumpster diving and second-hand stores. Summer was around the corner, and he and Ned had _a lot_ of work to do.

**

_My friends call me M.J._

It was strange how seamless the transition from strangers to acquaintances to friends had undergone between him and M.J. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment where he realized they had reached the friendship status—sometime between her regularly sitting with him and Ned at lunch and Peter walking her to her bus stop every day after school. One day she was making fun of him in the back of the classroom during detention, the next he was listening to her rant about the scientific absurdity of the lightsaber.

“Peter, you do realize if we were to create a lightsaber with our current scientific means, we wouldn’t be able to hold it, right?” She asked, paying special attention to avoid stepping on the cracks of the sidewalk. “It’d literally melt our skin off while we held it. There’s nothing about it that makes it a superior weapon.”

“Here’s my counterpoint: they look cool as hell.”

“You literally suck so hard at debate.”

Peter laughed. “M.J., I don’t actually believe you’ve watched a Star Wars movie, because if you had you would be agreeing with me about how super cool they actually are.”

“Of course I haven’t seen a Star Wars movie,” she replied. “I’m too cool for that.”

“Hold the phone.”

“Peter,” M.J. warned. “No.”

“Come to my house, I’ve got all the DVD’s bootlegged—“

“I’ve got my Honors History project due.”

“We both know you’re already done.” 

“America’s Next Top Model is on my D.V.R.” M.J. crossed her arms. “You know my favorite part is watching their breakdowns over getting a bad haircut.”

“M.J., _pleaseee_.”

They stared at each other, Peter with the best puppy dog eyes he could manage and M.J. looking back without blinking. The bus was approaching soon, he could hear the squeal of the brakes from where he stood, but did not relent. 

“Fine,” M.J. finally responded, her shoulders falling after a shrug. “Where do you live?”

Luckily, his apartment was not too far from Midtown, though the walk itself felt shorter with M.J. at his side. They made a quick pitstop at Delmar’s Deli now that it was finally rebuilt, ordered a couple of hoagies and bags of chips, pet the cat, and made their way toward his place. His stomach fluttered ridiculously the closer the two of them got, and after their fingers brushed and them pointedly ignoring it, the haunting realization came to him. This was the first time he was bringing a girl back to where he lived _alone_.

Not like he would try to make a move with M.J. or anything, or her with him. She barely liked him as a friend, let alone like _that_. It was a ridiculous thought, and now one he was having a difficult time _ignoring_.

The nerves settled once he set up his laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch and popped in _Phantom Menace_. A comfortable space was between them, but they both found themselves inching ever closer to the middle to get a better view of the screen. Occasionally M.J. would comment on the ridiculousness of the special effects or the racist undertones of Jar Jar Binx, which Peter agreed with, but soon found herself invested in the story. He found his attention drifting from the screen to gauge her reactions, smiling when she did and chuckling at the way her nose scrunched up in distaste whenever Yoda spoke.

When the credits rolled, Peter had turned his attention towards her with a wide smile on his face. “So, what’d you think? Who’s your favorite? Are you gonna watch the others with me, too?”

“It was nerdy, but not unwatchable. Padme, because she’s hot.” She pretended to hesitate. “Sure. I’ve got nothing else to do.”

“I think that’s why Han Solo was my favorite when I first watched the movies. Thought he was hot, too.” Once her words finally sank in, he grinned wide. “Oh, awesome. I didn’t think you’d actually say yeah.”

The corners of M.J.’s mouth quirked upwards. “Is Han Solo your boyfriend or something?”

“Eleven year old me wishes,” Peter admitted without thinking. After a beat, he paused. “Um, don’t tell anyone I’m bi, by the way. Not ashamed or anything, but, y’know…” He trailed off, waving his hands at nothing in particular for emphasis. 

“High school,” M.J. finished. Peter nodded and she tilted her head at him, a playful smile on her features. “Don’t shit your pants, Peter. I’m bi, too. I know the deal.”

A silent understanding could be felt between the two of them. They don’t talk about it again for the rest of the day, but something had shifted between them—a step in the right direction past the stage of friendship held so precariously between them. If he can’t stop smiling, she doesn’t question him about it, but it seemed to him she couldn’t stop either. 

By the time Aunt May came home, M.J. introduced herself and left much to his disappointment. Apparently it was obvious from the smirk that crossed Aunt May’s face

“That girl’s cute, I like her for you,” Aunt May commented nonchalantly as she unloaded the groceries from the bags. “I still need a heads up though if girls are coming over though. You may be Spider-Man, but you still live under _my_ roof.” 

If the ground decided now was the best time to open up and swallow him whole, Peter would be _thankful_.

**

After weeks of tireless effort, needle pricks, the stench of garbage embedded in his clothes no matter how many times Peter took a shower or brought his clothes into the Laundromat, the new suit was finally finished. 

There was no nanotechnology imbedded in the suit, no KAREN responding to his every articulated thought, no kill switch. It fit him perfectly, if anything a little snug, but he felt safe and protected. Without Ned going back and forth with him in terms of schematics and recounting his notes on Stark’s tech on the previous suit, or Aunt May making suggestions on extra padding for more protection or lending him money, this would’ve Peter so much longer. Only so much could be made from delivery tips and freelance photos of Spider-Man to the Daily Bugle.

“Well, what do you think?” Peter pulled the mask from his head, gesturing towards the suit. “I like it.” 

“Dude, I wasn’t done calibrating your eye shields yet! Put your mask back on,” Ned whined, and Peter quickly did as he was told. Nobody liked working with an annoyed Ned. “Always so impatient, this one.”

“You don’t live with him,” she replied, ignoring the exaggerated gasp Peter made. “Give me another angle, Peter.” Aunt May had her glasses on, the measuring tape dangling from her neck as she rested her chin on the palm of her hand. Her expertise in design and sewing was the only reason why it didn’t look like a sixteen year old kid made it. “Yup. Just what I thought, it’s perfect.”

“And we’re all set on the calibration.” Ned sunk into the couch after closing his laptop shut. After weeks of being attached at the hip, he had practically thrown it across the room. “Thank God.”

Peter glanced at himself in the mirror and saw Spider-Man reflecting back at him. It had been a labor or love, not just for Peter, but for all the people of New York City—a gift he’d never take back.

“I think it’s time for a test drive.”

**

A new picture joined the others on the shrine for _Día de los Muertos_. Peter had always wondered when he was younger how there could ever be enough space for everyone in such a tiny apartment, but Aunt May and Uncle Ben had always found a place for everyone who had passed. Now, Uncle Ben’s place was beside his parents in a bed of marigolds.

Peter hoped they were proud of him, wherever they were. He had been too young to remember their funerals, or his father’s Shiva or his mother’s wake, but he had remembered the varying opinions of what happened to the soul after someone died. When he had asked Aunt May, she gave him a quick rundown of what the Jewish faith believed, what his father believed, of the afterlife, or more accurately the lack of one, and a quick rundown of other’s belief. When he questioned her on what she believed, she confessed she lost touch with her religion, and couldn’t give him a certain answer he clearly wanted. For Peter, though he was half-Jewish, there was no theory he felt one hundred percent sure of.

The only truth he knew was he missed those who’d moved on from this life terribly, and wished they’d reunite again one day.

“What were my parents like?”

“Your mom was a genius, Peter, seriously. She was my big sister so of course I considered her pretentious, but deep down I knew she was something special,” Aunt May had told him as she was skimming through scrapbooks of pictures for that year. She always made sure to put a different picture in the frame every year. “I’m pretty sure you get your big brain from her, not that your dad was dumb or anything, but… I don’t know. She had such an eye for not just seeing the world as it was, but for how it _could_ be, and finding a way of making that vision she had come to life.”

“That’s what your father loved about her, too,” Ben had added with a smile. He was pulling out a box of his parent’s favorite belongings they pulled out to accompany the shrine—it wasn’t the culture he was born with, but Day of the Dead meant as much to him as it did to Peter and May. “Oh, he fell so hard for her and became such an awkward mess around her. For a couple of months, all he could ever talk about was Mary, Mary, Mary.”

Ben had taken out his dad’s glasses from the box and smiled at them sadly before placing them by where his frame would go. “Dick was the best friend anyone could’ve asked for. Without him, I probably would’ve never met your Aunt May.”

Reaching over the coffee table, their hands met, the two of them smiling at the other. Peter felt a familiar warmth in his chest, but he couldn’t shake the budding question in his mind.

“Dick?” Peter had asked, young and unaware. “Wait, why was my dad a dick?”

Ben’s cheeks flushed red, and Aunt May had laughed so hard tears brimmed her eyes.

“Dick is a popular nickname for Richard,” he explained quickly, turning redder by the second. Peter was glad his skin was dark enough to hide when he blushed because it looked almost painful. “He wasn’t actually a dick.”

“I’ve never heard that nickname before in my life, Uncle Ben.”

“Ben,” Aunt May wheezed, her arm clutched around her stomach. “Stop saying dick.”

Peter grinned wide. “Yeah, Ben. It's not very uncle-like of you.”

“ _Oy vey_ , stop making me look like such a _putz_! The both of you!”

The memory of the smile crossed his face as he stared at the three photos on the shrine, their smiles forever frozen in time. He wiped a few stray tears from his eyes, sniffling, as he placed two pairs of glasses alongside the frames this year.

Were they proud of him? He hoped so.

**

It all happened so quickly. One minute, he was in a school bus for another decathelon competition somewhere over the bridge, the next he was in space, turning into dust. So many people died—heroes he had grown up with, had fought side by side with, sacrificed in order to stop Thanos and undo all the damage he caused throughout the universe.

They won. Everyone who had been turned to dust came back again. Earth was safe.

Victory tasted bitter amongst the string of funerals.

A hand clasped his shoulder, and when he looked upwards to find Steve Rogers, staring ahead with a hard look in his soldier’s eye—a man who knew death as well as the back of his hand—Peter couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. He had held it together, somewhat, until then.

“I think it’s time we had a talk,” Steve said, quiet, “Man to man.”

Peter turned and buried his face in his chest, arms wrapped around the other man tight. He didn’t care. It was instinct at this point. 

After Steve relaxed, he patted him on the shoulder, and let Peter hug him.

**

_The world needs a superhero, Spider-man._

_No more Avengers. No S.H.I.E.L.D. No more fucking around._

_What are you going to do?_

_**_

Steve ended up choosing a hole in the wall coffee shop within the heart of Brooklyn to meet at. Coffee really wasn’t his thing, but he felt mature sharing a cup of jo with Captain America, sunglasses and baseball cap making up his disguise, sitting across from him. The shop had a B grade, so Peter really couldn’t complain.

“I used to live in this building back in the day,” he said, taking a sip and making a pleasant sigh. “My friend Sam, when he told me about how this place had some of the best coffee in New York, I almost couldn’t believe it. Seemed like overnight everything I knew about the city had changed.”

“Sam?” Peter repeated the name on his tongue, until a face finally clicked into place. “Oh, bird man. We fought at the airport that one time.”

An amused smile crossed Steve’s face. “Yeah, he wouldn’t stop complaining about a kid in a bug costume kicking his ass. It was pretty funny.” 

“It’s more than a costume,” he protested with a smile. “But tell him I’m available for a rematch any time. Tell that guy with the metal arm to come too.” 

Steve chuckled. “I’ll be sure to pass along the message. Bet they’ll both be thrilled to hear it.”

“Um, no offense, Mr. Rogers, but…” Peter’s fingers followed along the rim of the coffee mug, sinking in his seat. “I’m having a hard time believing you wanted to meet up just for coffee.”

The other man wrinkled his nose. “You don’t have to call me that, by the way. Steve’s fine. Tony mentioned how bright you were, I’m not surprised you’ve been thinking about why I asked you to meet me here.” 

Although there was never a moment where Tony’s name wasn’t blasted in the headlines or news, it had been the first time someone had actually had mentioned his former mentor’s name _to_ him rather than _at_ him. The air around them felt heavier.

“Why _did_ you bring me here?”

“I wanted to tell you that I know what it’s like to work with Tony, and I know by the end of whatever relationship you two had, it’d been strained. Sometimes when that happens, grief gets even more complicated,” Steve said, and Peter’s mind flashed back to that airport all those months ago. “You were only a kid when he brought you to Germany—he never really thought things through sometimes. But I saw you in action, and I realized I saw what he saw.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked. “What’s that?”

“A hero.” There was no hesitation in his words. “A hero this city needs.”

Warmth spread through his cheeks. It couldn’t be helped—one of his heroes had called _him_ a hero. 

“Being a hero means you’re going to piss off a lot of people, no matter what you do. Maybe not now, but eventually. Good or bad.” Steve sighed as he took another sip of his coffee. There was a reason he was here in disguise. “All you can do in the end is follow your instincts and do what’s right. Look out for people who can’t protect themselves in a way you can. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s what’s have to be done.”

If Uncle Ben were here, he’d be buying Steve another drink.

“With great power comes great responsibility,” Peter echoed the words. “That’s what my Uncle Ben used to say to me. I think you’d have liked him if you met him.” 

Steve smiled, soft and tired. “I bet I would. Why don’t you tell me about him?”

And they did talk, for hours, even after Steve had paid for the bill.

It was the best cup of coffee Peter ever had in his life. 

**

At fourteen, Peter Parker is bit by a radioactive spider and gains superhuman abilities. 

At fifteen, he loses Uncle Ben to a trigger-happy cop and buries him next to his parents. He becomes Spider-man. He fights and gets used in a war he doesn’t understand.

At sixteen, he goes to space. Dies. Returns back to a world as messed up as he left it.

At seventeen, he goes to Europe and is used all over again by a man he trusted. Somehow, miraculously, neither him nor his friends die. He learns M.J. likes him back. It’s his first real relationship, one he’s so careful not to be ruined with what comes with the job.

At eighteen, Peter realizes the spider bite was only the beginning.

**

There’s a rush he gets when he’s with M.J. he only ever gets as Spider-Man. Kissing her makes his stomach flutter the way it does whenever he’s swinging from skyscraper to skyscraper in New York—he’s breathless with it, smiling against her mouth as her hand lazily runs through his hair. If he opens his eyes, he’s worried he’d find himself in his bed waking from a dream instead of rolling around on the ratty couch in his living room with the girl of his dreams.

Peter’s jumped off enough buildings to know what falling feels like. None of it compares to how he feels when he’s with M.J.

He knows she feels it, too. This thing between them that’s been building since sophomore year and hasn’t stopped since. Whenever she steals a glance of him when she thinks he’s not paying attention, he catches the hitch of her breath—an involuntary reaction she’s probably not even aware of.

(The first time he noticed, he couldn’t stop smiling for days. Now he couldn’t stop noticing.)

Underneath him, M.J.’s face scrunches the way it does whenever he’s late for a date and she’s starving, impatient and wanting simultaneously. All he wants to do is kiss the pout forming on her face. “Why’d you stop?”

“Was that a whine I hear in your voice?” Peter asked, smiling against the skin of her cheek. The tips of their noses brushed and he had to fight down the urge to give a butterfly kiss. “That’s cute.” 

Immediately, he’s on his ass on the other side of the couch from a playful shove. There’s a glare in her eyes, but it’s hard to take her seriously when her hair’s a mess and the shirt she stole from Peter’s closet was wrinkled. He placed a stray curl behind her ear fondly.

“I don’t whine,” she replied. “You just left me hanging.”

Peter smiled as he inched closer to her, the smile growing wider when she let him brush his lips against her cheekbone. He felt the moment she broke out into a smile. “Can I let you in on a secret, ma’am?”

“Let me guess, you’re Spider-Man.”

“Oh man, how’d you figure that out?”

“Because I’m a genius.”

“Definitely.”

Sitting up on the couch, M.J. nudged him gently with her knee. “What’s up, Parker?” 

“How’d I get so lucky to be with you?”

“I want to tell you a story about this nerd I saw freshman year,” she announced. Whenever she had an anecdote or a story to share, he always tuned out everything else and focused solely on her. “Dorky stringbean of a kid with these huge thick-rimmed glasses, no friends, getting fries thrown into his hair by Flash Thompson.”

“Thanks for reminding me…” Peter mumbled. “But I—“

“Don’t interrupt, I’m not done,” M.J. continued without missing a beat, and Peter promptly did with a small smile on his face. “Most kids would let that ruin their whole day, but you just shrugged it off. Next period, I saw you explaining to him how to isolate the variable in geometry or whatever without any hesitation. Anyway, that’s when I saw you, really _noticed_ you, for the first time.” 

Peter rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. “That? We were teamed up together for that day, it was nothing.”

“And that right there is what I’m talking about—“ She poked the corner of his mouth, the smile on his face growing. Mirroring him, she smiled softly too. “You didn’t even ask for a thank you or an apology when you really should have. Nobody was that nice. I thought it’d be a one time thing, and so I kept watching you. Kept waiting for you to slip up and confirm that humanity was the worst, but you never did.” 

His heart beat in his chest, so loud, he was sure M.J. could hear it even without spider powers. A cold, soft hand cradled his cheek, and he sunk into the touch without question with a dopey smile on his face—placed a kiss on the inside of her palm. 

“I’ve never met a guy who was as nice, and smart, and as funny as you, Peter Parker.” M.J.’s dark eyes met him, and he felt as if he were drowning in them. “You’re the only guy who’s ever deserved me, and I’m glad I’m as lucky to deserve you too.” 

They’re smiling at each other, and the world is so quiet for the first time.

“We won the jackpot, tiger.”

Peter doesn’t hesitate to kiss her senseless.

**

It was a rough day of painful beat downs, getting shot at by criminal and cop—though the two were bleeding closer together every day— and Peter was exhausted. Days like these are days where he wonders why he bothers. Every person he saves, another one dies because he wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t enough _period_.

When he’s halfway back to Aunt May’s apartment, he spotted him. Some kid in a hoodie with a spray can in his hand—couldn’t be any older than thirteen. He should be at home, with his parents, or someone who cares.

The kid doesn’t notice when he’s perched at the edge of the building. This close, Peter can tell what it is the kid’s making, the details of the lines and colors coming together for one of the most beautiful murals he’d ever seen in his life. It’s of a man, bald and dark skinned, surrounded by wings with a splash of colors behind him. His eyes are closed, but he’s smiling, looking at peace. Something about him is familiar, but he can’t place where, or if, he’s ever seen this man before.

“You know, this is really great,” Peter announced, “I’m serious, this is beautiful.” 

At the sound of his voice, the kid raised his hands and dropped the spray paint and turns around, slowly. The kid had dark, doe eyes that goes wider at the sight of him.

“Oh my God,” the kid whispered, “You’re Spider-Man. Spider-Man complimented my artwork.” It takes a moment for him to realize he’d just been found out. “Oh my God, please don’t take me to jail—my parents will kill me, seriously.”

“Why would I do that? You made this building look a million times cooler. Seriously, it’s always been such an eyesore when I’m swinging around.” Peter walked toward him, straightening his back to get a better look at the mural in question. It was even more stunning up close. “This guy, do you know him?”

The kid nodded, sheepish in his movements. “Yeah, he’s uh… He’s my uncle. Uncle Aaron.” A beat. “My name’s Miles, by the way. In case you wanted to know.” 

“Of course I’d wanna know the famous artist who made this, Miles,” Peter exclaimed. “Is he… gone?”

“No,” Miles responded, shaking his head. “Not like that anyway. He’s in jail right now.”

Ah, so that’s where Peter recognized him. The man who had been attempting to buy illegal weapons from Vulture a couple years back, who led him to the ferry dock to stop one of the deals.

“I’m sorry to hear that, buddy.” Peter glances at him and notices the way the joy and excitement minutes ago had vanished. “You must really miss him, huh?”

“Every day. I get to talk to him sometimes, but it’s really not the same as him actually being here, and my dad. Ugh. My dad acts like he’s going to be a bad influence on me or something, but he’s still my uncle, y’know? No way would he ever hurt me, he loves me.” There was a brief pause before he moved his fingers through his hair. “I am so sorry, Spider-Man. I seriously can’t believe I unloaded all that onto you of all people. Maybe my mom was right about going to see a therapist or whatever.”

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Miles. I was the one barging in on you here, I should be the one apologizing.” Peter swallowed and gently placed a hand on Miles’ shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Your parents…. It may seem overwhelming and out of nowhere, but they’re only trying to keep you safe. Your uncle Aaron too. This is just a weird adjustment period. It’ll get better.”

“Yeah, how do you know?”

“Nothing ever stays bad forever,” Peter replied easily. “Trust me, I’ve got a lot of experience in that department.”

Miles let out a chuckle, quickly wiping an unshed tear from his eyes. Under the mask, Peter smiled. 

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a great listener, Spider-Man?”

Peter shrugged, an air of amusement in his voice. “Eh, maybe once or twice here and there. Most people usually tell me to shut up, though. So, it’s fifty-fifty depending on how you ask.” 

There’s a brief moment where nobody moves, and then Peter’s enveloped all at once—Miles’ arms wrapped around his middle and squeezing him like his life depended on it. Peter’s face softened as he hugged the kid back, patting the space between his shoulder blades just like Uncle Ben always did with him.

After Miles pulls back, he cleared his throat. “So… Now’s the time you lecture me about tagging, right?”

“Nope,” Peter replied. “Now’s the time you tell me where you live and promise me not to be running around this late at night. It’s dangerous, and I bet neither of your parents or Uncle Aaron want you out here.”

Miles’ face lit up, smiling bright. “Are you telling me you’re going to swing me home? Forreal?”

“Yup, kiddo. Better hang on tight, I hear it can get a little bumpy in the backseat.”

**

Peter Parker never asked to be Spider-Man. The world did, and all he did was try to be something people could be proud of—something people could believe in when at their lowest. All he could do was try and be somebody his parents, Uncle Ben and Aunt May, M.J., Ned, and everyone else could be proud of.

With great power comes great responsibility. With great responsibility comes the power to make a great change.

Time to make the world proud.

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH hoped you liked it! sorry if there are any mistakes/typos, i'm posting this as soon as i'm done but if anyone wants to beta or look over and edit, lemme know! 
> 
> leave a comment and a kudos if you liked it!
> 
> i'm @sapphicvevo on tumblr!


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